Playground
by Cubismus
Summary: Pre- Series. Slightly AU. Kid!fic. Sherlock and John had met before.
1. Chapter 1

This is kid!Sherlock and kid!John Story. It's pre-series and slightly AU.

In the first chapter Sherlock is eight, John ten and Mycroft fifteen

It was cold. John put his right hand in his pocket, but he was still writing his homework with his left hand. He was sitting on a bench near a playground as he did every day. It wasn't a particularly nice playground, but John new that his father never walked through this park. It was a quiet place except for the few sunny days when a crowd of kids came along with their moms who would watch them play while exchanging the latest gossip. Sometimes they would talk to John and praise him because he was doing his homework and even give him a few cookies and orange juice. John liked that, but it only happened a few times in summer. Most of the time, the park and the playground were lonesome.

Today nobody was there except for John and a young boy who was probably two years younger than him. The boy had curly black hair and was sitting on the swing. He didn't look like he was enjoying himself. He looked much more like he was sulking. But John ignored him. He just wanted to do his homework.

John wasn't a wealthy boy. His family was actually quite poor. One couldn't consider his family to be happy too. John's mum had left. John couldn't even remember when and why but he guessed that her disappearance had something to do with the fact that his dad was an alcoholic. He was an angry and sad man. John knew that his dad hadn't been always like that. They had a lot of smart books at home who belonged to that man, but John hadn't seen his dad read anything for ages. Usually his dad was away drinking. Sometimes he slept all day. A few times a month John actually talked to his dad and it never ended well.

But there was also John's Sister Harry. She had been lovely the past few years. She had always made breakfast and dinner. She worked part time and paid for everything John needed.

She still worked and she still paid for their bills but a few weeks back something changed. It first started when she had a new boyfriend. She came home late and woke up John. She reeked like John's dad did when he came home from a pub. John always got scared from the smell of alcohol, especially whiskey his dad's favourite drink. When she told him that he had to sleep on the couch tonight he obeyed without asking. Young John didn't have a bed of his own. He shared a bed with his eight years older sister. But that was fine. He liked to have her near him.

After that day Harry started to sleep in late thus John had to make his own breakfast and she usually wasn't home until late in the night, so most of the time John went to bed without dinner.

In school nobody knew about his family. John was a really good student. He was prepared, attentive and curious. The head master even asked him if he would like to skip a class.

It was getting dark and John had just thought about going home, when it suddenly started to rain. John cursed quietly, packed his things and ran into the small wooden house on the playground. It was shaped like a boat and John remembered that the kids in summer always pretended to be pirates when they played on the boat.

The small house wasn't comfortable, it was dirty, full of sand and smelled a bit like piss but it was still better than getting soaked by rain.

The small boy with the curly black hair joined John. Without saying anything he sat down in the other corner of the room. Both of the boys looked out of the door and watched how the rain got stronger.

John felt a bit awkward. He felt like he was supposed to talk to boy since they were in the same room alone. But the little boy didn't seem to bother.

But the little boy cringed when a loud thunder clapped on somewhere not too far away.

"Aren't your parents worried? It's nearly seven o' clock. You are a bit too young to be at the park alone when it's getting dark." John said to the young boy.

The boy narrowed his eyes.

"I'm eight. You don't look much older. So don't pretend to be older."  
"And I am ten. Eight and ten is a difference." John argued.

The boy snorted. Suddenly John thought that the boy didn't seem to be that young anymore. Sure, he was young but something told John that the boy was pretty mature for his age.

"So what are you doing here at this hour? Why aren't you at home? No dinner at home?" John asked. Maybe the young boy was in the same situation like he was. Maybe that boy had an alcoholic father too. Maybe he understood John and maybe they could be friends.

The boy shrugged his shoulders.

"I don't want to be at home. My parents are away for two days and they left me with my brother."

"So what's the matter? Is your brother that bad?" John asked.

"Yes. He the most evil person one can encounter." The boy said.

John smiled. The brother surely couldn't be that bad.

"What did he do?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Did he beat you?" John guessed. There was compassion in the older boy's voice.

"No."

"Did he forget to make you breakfast and dinner?"

John thought about Harry. She had forgotten about him the entire week, but John understood her. He wasn't angry. It had to be hard to work and take care of her younger brother.

"No. He always makes me eat."

"Did he wake you up in the middle in the night and told you to sleep on the couch?"

"Why would anyone do that?"

John shrugged his shoulders.

Again both boys got silent and watched the rain fall. The rain wasn't going to stop anytime soon.

After a while the young boy finally told him what happened.

"He called me stupid." He said. "My brother told me that I am stupid, but I am not."

John started to laugh. This surely was a funny boy. He had been sulking alone at playground for hours because his brother told him he was stupid.

John knew that the boy didn't have the problems he had and somehow he felt relieved. It wouldn't make him happy to know that he wasn't the only one with an unhappy family.

"What?" The young boy asked confused but angry too.

"Nothing…" John said still laughing.

"I am not stupid!"

"Yeah, I think you are not. But this is what older brothers do. They call you stupid. It's like their job."

John explained.

"But that doesn't make sense!"

John smiled at the boy.

"What's your name? I am John."

"Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes."

Funny name, John thought, but he didn't say anything.

"Did you finish your homework?" Sherlock asked out of nowhere.

"I have everything what is due to tomorrow. How did you know that I was doing my homework?"

John asked a bit surprised.

"I think it was quiet obvious." Sherlock answered. John thought about it for a minute and nodded.

"But you haven't finished math yet, have you? You had a few problems, didn't you?" Sherlock guessed.

"How did you..?"

"I can help you! I am bored. Math can be fun."

"But I am older than you. It might be too difficult for you."

"Unless you have started with integral calculus, it will not be too hard for me."

Unbelievingly John showed Sherlock his homework, but it seemed that Sherlock actually understood it.

"You really can't solve that one?" He asked.

John nodded and listened to the boy as he explained him how to solve it.

They've been working on his homework for half an hour when they heard someone shouting: "Sherlock! Sherlock!"

John looked out of the house and saw a teenager, probably about fifteen. He was coming closer to the boat house. It was still raining heavily but he had an umbrella.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "That's my brother. I hoped he would let me alone a bit longer."

"He doesn't look that bad." John said.

"He is, believe me."

"Sherlock!" The older boy shouted again. He was now standing in front of the house. He glared intensively at John, but he couldn't scare him. John's dad was far scarier.

"Sherlock, I know you are in there. Don't make me climb into that filthy thing. Come out. Dinner is ready." Sherlock's brother explained. John somehow envied Sherlock. Although Sherlock's brother wasn't all too friendly he still seemed to care. And John was hungry. He would love to have dinner now.

"Yes, alright. I'm coming." Sherlock climbed out of the small house. He ran too his brother. The teenager put an arm around Sherlock. But before the Holmes brother walked home, Sherlock turned around to John.

"See you, John."

"See you, Sherlock."

After Sherlock had left John tried to read in his textbooks until it was too dark. At some point young John fell asleep. When he woke up it was still dark, but the rain had stopped.

At home he found that his father was already snoring loudly in his bedroom and his sister was asleep too. There was a guy with her in bed hugging her. She was naked and John felt awfully embarrassed as he saw her bare breast.

He wondered if anyone had even noticed that he hadn't been home for the better part of the night.

John found that his stomach was growling. He looked in the kitchen for food but expect for a few beer bottles there was nothing. He was really hungry and thought about how his dad sometimes only had beer for dinner. Maybe he should try it since everyone in his family seemed to drink. His dad had once explained that alcohol numbs pain.

John opened a bottle took a sip, but spat it out the next second. How could they drink that? It tasted as bad as it smelled. Angrily John emptied the bottle above the sink. He thought about empting the other bottles too but in the end his dad or his sister would just buy new ones and there would less money for more important things like food.

John went to the couch. He threw view empty bottles and someone's clothes onto the floor to make room one the small couch and lied down. He didn't have a blanket, since he and his sister normally shared one big blanket and he really couldn't just take the blanket from her and that guy. So he covered himself with his coat.

Although he was hungry and cold he fell asleep pretty fast. That night John Watson had view strange dreams.

He dreamed about Sherlock being his brother. He dreamed about how that older boy didn't only come for Sherlock but also for him and how they had a nice dinner and how he and Sherlock continued doing math before their older brother sent them to bed.

But when John woke up the next morning he was still in the small apartment. His dad and sister were still asleep in the other room. John hurried up and went to school. If he was there early he might have time to help the cafeteria staff to carry in the food which got delivered in the morning and he might get something to eat for free.


	2. Chapter 2

Two years later

John hadn't seen Sherlock for nearly two years. John was still going to the playground regularly, but Sherlock didn't come anymore. At first he was sad, because although he had only known him for about an hour he had liked that kid. But after a while John had forgotten about Sherlock.

At home the situation hadn't changed a lot. His father was still a drunk and so was his sister. But John had learned to take care of himself.

He had a few small jobs, nothing big. Sometimes he babysat the neighbor's young daughter or cleaned the staircase or he delivered the newspapers. He got enough money to buy food when his sister forgot to give him money. Moreover John learned to cook and he got used to sleeping on the couch though his back hurt sometimes.

His dad didn't know, but John had skipped a class and went to private school with a scholarship. He had told Harry once but John wasn't sure if she remembered because she didn't seem to be sober at that time.

But John's future wasn't that dark anymore. If he continued his studies successfully he would be able to get a scholarship for med school. Because that was John's dream, he wanted to be a doctor.

The day John had met Sherlock the second time was a cold day like the one two years ago.

Sherlock was again on the swing.

This time John didn't ignore him but went over to him. He had finished his homework anyway.

"Sherlock, long time no see."

The boy looked up.

"Oh, John." He answered. The young's boy voice was hoarse.

"Did your brother call you stupid again?" John asked mockingly.

Sherlock seemed to be confused but shook his head.

"No, he left me."

"What do you mean, he left you?"

"He just left me."

John sat down on the swing next to Sherlock. He looked at his young friend concerned. Sherlock was pale, but his cheeks were flushed red.

"What about your parents?"

"They are somewhere in Asia I think. They left me with my brother again but then he got a call and told me to take care of myself because he had some important business to attend to."

John nodded. He could understand Sherlock. He had felt abandoned so many times too.

Sherlock coughed a few times, obviously embarrassed about his vulnerability.

John stood up and put his hand on Sherlock's forehead.

"You are running a fever, Sherlock."

The younger boy nodded. "I know. But I can't call Mycroft. He will make fun of me because I can't take care about myself even for a few days."

"But you should. You are ill." John said.

"I will not."

John sighed.

"Maybe I should bring you home then. It's too cold to stay outside especially if you are ill. Do you have any money?" John asked.

"Yes?"

"Good, we can go to a grocery store and buy some chicken and vegetables on our way. I will make you a soup for your cold." John explained.

"You can cook?" Sherlock asked surprised.

"Yes, I can cook."

Sherlock led John to grocery store and then to the Holmes' house. It was nothing too fancy, but it was a nice house with a garden and comfortable furnish. But what John liked most was that everything was clean. The floor was not sticky of beer and there was not the sharp smell of whisky, puke and piss.

"There is the kitchen. Thank you for making soup, John." Sherlock told. Then he went to the living room and lied down on the couch.

John smiled a bit as he saw Sherlock curled on the couch under a thick woolen blanket. He wished he had a younger brother like Sherlock.

An hour later both were sipping soup. Sherlock nearly fell asleep while eating. Later John brought him to bed, gave him water and some cold medicine he had found in the bathroom of the Holmes.

John thought about going home but then he decided that he should better stay, because he should check Sherlock's fever from time to time. It wasn't like anyone would miss him at home anytime soon.

John spent the night sleeping on the couch and he found it much more comfortable than at his home. For the next three days John took care of Sherlock. Every day after school he cooked for the younger boy, made him take some medicine and read some books out loud for him because Sherlock claimed he couldn't read on his own because of his headache though John suspected that Sherlock just liked John to read to him. The books Sherlock wanted him to read were fare to mature for both of them but John didn't mind, it wasn't like he was a sheltered child and Sherlock didn't seem to get scared by violence, bodies or anything at all.

Then the day Mycroft, Sherlock's brother, was supposed to come home, Sherlock kind of threw John out. He told him that Sherlock didn't want Mycroft to know that Sherlock had a nurse the past few days and that John should better go home. A bit hurt John left and went home.


	3. Chapter 3

A few weeks later John was in trouble. It was snowing all day and for once John decided to go straight home after school. He was freezing and his winter coat didn't fit anymore. It was far too cold to spend his day on the playground like he usually did.

He didn't expect his dad to be home. Normally he went to the pub for lunch and wouldn't come home for a few hours.

But apparently it was even too cold for the old man to go to a pub, so when John saw his dad he hoped that the man would ignore him but John wasn't lucky.

"John! I haven't seen you for ages." The man growled. John didn't have to look twice to see that his father was day-drunk.

"Hello, dad. I have to do my homework, so if you don't mind…"

"I mind! Come sit with your old man. You can have a drink too, you are old enough anyway."

"I am not. I am twelve, dad, and I don't like alcohol." John explained.

"Okay, you can have some tonic water, alright? But sit down."

"I don't like tonic water."

"Sit down!" The man shouted. John sat down. He should better listen to his dad before the man got really angry.

"You aren't growing much, are you?" The man noticed. John looked at his feet a bit embarrassed.

"Yes, I only grew two centimetres last year. The school nurse said I should eat more."

His dad poured himself another whisky.

"It's not about food. Your mother was small too. Tiny, little dwarf. Just like you."

John didn't like it when his dad talked about his mother. It made John feel… abandoned.

Suddenly his dad seized his chin and turned his face towards him. John could smell the alcohol in his father's breath. "You look just like her. You are never going to be a real man."

After a few seconds glaring at him he let go of John. John wanted to leave but his father held him down.

"You aren't going anywhere."

"Please dad, I have to do my homework."

"You have a few minutes."

John's legs were shaking. He was scared. Talking with his dad never ended well. But he obeyed again.

"What's up with that fancy school uniform?" His dad asked.

"I got a scholarship a private school."

"Smart, aren't you? I was smart too until I met your mum. You know I nearly had finished university but then she came pregnant with your good for nothing sister."

John looked at his dad. He didn't know that about his dad.

"Looks adorable on you the uniform, Jonny. Your mum would have loved it."

John shifted uncomfortable at his seat. He didn't look at his dad but he could still feel his glare on him.

"I hope your scholarship covered that fancy uniform, too."

"It didn't. But I paid it on my own." John explained.

"How the bloody hell could you have paid for that."

The man stood up and went to the bar at the other end of the room. He took out a new bottle of some clear alcohol.

"I worked." John said.

The man smirked evilly. "You know, Jonny boy, you will not go to university. You will screw up, like your mother, like me, like your gay sister. You will screw up like anyone in this bloody family."

"No I will not. I am working hard, dad. I am at the top of my class." John said confidently.

"Ha! Your mum was an honour student, too. But I think she liked drugs better. She liked drugs even better than you kids."

John started to cry.

"She did not leave us! She left you! You bloody drunk!" John screamed and only then realized his mistake. He shouldn't talk like this to his father. The next second he felt a hit to his left eye. For a moment he blacked out. The next he knows he was laying on the floor, his dad kicking him. John stood up. He took a glass bottle from the floor and threw it against his father's head. John just thought that he might have knocked his dad out, but the man just had head wound which was bleeding pretty much. He looked even angrier. His dad picked up the bottle from the ground which was now broken. Before John knew what happened, his dad had grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and pressed him against the wall.

"You are just like your mother." His dad whispered John into his ear. Suddenly John felt a sharp pain at his side. John needed a few second to understand what happened. His dad had stabbed him with the broken bottle.

"Dad, what the hell are you doing?" Harry had entered the room. John fell on the floor as his dad released him.

"Jonny, are you alright?" Harry asked concerned. John nodded. "Yes, I'm fine." John stood up and ran into the bathroom. Behind Harry was a girl, maybe her new girlfriend. She wanted to follow John but the boy locked the door before she could enter.

John could hear Harry argue with their dad, but he was much more occupied with the wound on his stomach. There was a large piece of glass still stuck in his flesh. John's hands were shaking. It looked like a wound someone could die from. John took some of his dad's after shave and poured it over the wound. Then he took the glass out and pressed some bandage against it. For some reason they had a pretty new first aid kit in the bathroom. John guessed that Harry had bought it because dad came home wounded on more than one occasion.

But John realized that a bandage wouldn't work. He needed stitches. Although he was pretty sure that the glass hadn't hurt anything important yet. He found some small set of needle and thread. He actually knew how to sew a wound. He had looked carefully how the school nurse had done it when a friend of his had cut himself into the hand deeply. He knew that it wouldn't work as good with a normal set of needle and thread. The nurse had used some special needle and a special thread but John didn't plan on going to the doctor. They would just ask questions he wouldn't like to answer.

Therefore he sewed himself up. John thought that he would pass out several times but in the end he was finished and pretty proud with work. His dad wasn't right. He wouldn't screw. He would become a doctor.

He went out of the bathroom. Harry and his dad weren't fighting anymore. Harry's girlfriend had left. Concerned Harry ran over to him and checked his head where his dead had hit him. She probably hadn't seen that dad had stabbed him otherwise she would have checked that wound first.

"Are okay, John?"

"Yes, I am fine." John lied. He felt kind of fuzzy and weak.

"I am taking dad to a hospital. I think his head wound needs stiches. Should I take you, too?"

John's and Harry's dad was standing behind Harry. He looked at John with narrowed eyes. Maybe he wondered how John wasn't dead yet.

"No, no. I am fine. Take him."

Harry carefully patted his head. "You are a brave boy, you know that." Harry said. Her voice wasn't really proud but very sad.

John smiled shyly. "Thanks, I guess."

Hours later John sat shivering in the small house on the playground.

He had left home. He wasn't sure if he had run for good, but maybe he should stay away from home until his wound was healed. If his father wanted to hit him again, chances were good that he could bleed to death if the stiches opened again. Of course it was the worst time to leave home. The snow was several centimeters thick and although John was wearing everything he owned he was still cold.

Today John didn't expect anyone at the playground especially at that late hour. He was surprised when suddenly Sherlock climbed into the small boat-house.

"Sherlock, what are you doing here?" John asked surprised. He hoped that the younger boy wouldn't notice John's weak voice.

"I went for walk and I recognized your foot steps in the snow."

John smiled a bit. Sherlock was standing in front of him. John felt like the younger boy expected him to stand up to greet him but John felt too weak to stand up. The walk to the playground and the cold weather had taken the last bit of his strength.

"How have you recognized my footsteps? They could have been anyone's."

"Oh, please." Sherlock explained. "I know your shoes. You are wearing them the every time I see you. They are the shoes from your school uniform. You don't see any other students from your school at this part of the town and I guess most of the children in your school are rich. Their parents would surely buy them nice winter shoes."

John nodded. That made sense.

"What happened to your face?" Sherlock asked.

John felt caught off guard. He touched his face carefully.

"I… had a fight with someone in my class."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes.

"No, you are lying." Sherlock disagreed.

John snorted. "How would you know?"

"The person who hit you had a large hand. It couldn't have been a child." Sherlock deduced.

"And you can say that by looking on haematoma? "

"Yes."

John shook his head unbelievingly.

"But it also quite obvious, that you live in an abusive family." Sherlock explained. "First your family is obviously poor. You only have one pair of shoes and most of your clothes are worn of and seem to be from an older sibling since they are not really your size and were obviously worn by a female before. For example you can see on your sweatshirt that the upper part is stretched out most likely by female breasts.

Second you are spending most of your time on the playground. You don't really like your home. My first guess was that it might be too loud or crowded at your home and you preferred to do your homework here, but since you don't go straight home after homework or when most families have dinner, you must be scared of going home. You usually go home when you think that your alcoholic father goes to a pub.

How I know that your dad is an alcoholic? One can smell it on you. "

John glared at Sherlock. He didn't know if he was angry or amazed. But Sherlock continued his deduction.

"And you obviously plan on sleeping here tonight. You normally don't wear that much even if it is cold, you want to stay out longer. Moreover you have your school bag with you. You plan on going to school tomorrow. You care a lot about school. You have even put your school bag into a plastic bag to keep it dry tonight. And you didn't take blanket with you for tonight, because you don't have one. You are most likely sharing your bed. My guess is with your older sister from whom you got the clothes."

"How did you know all that?" John asked.

"It's easy. I observe."

"You are amazing." John said. Now it was Sherlock who was confused.

"You are not angry?"

"Why would I be?"

Sherlock looked happy and proud. He sat down next to John.

"It's pretty cold. Do you think you will be fine?" He asked John worried.

"Sure."

"Maybe you should call the police. I mean your dad beat you. Parents aren't allowed to do that." Sherlock told him.

John only smiled.

"I don't want too. I want to stay with my sister."

Sherlock nodded uncertain.

"Maybe you should come with me? I can sneak you into my room. You could sleep on the couch in my room. My parents aren't home and Mycroft doesn't enter my room without knocking."

John thought about it but then he realized that he couldn't even come with Sherlock if he wanted to. His side burned like hell and John was pretty sure that he wouldn't even make it out of the house without passing out.

"Don't worry, Sherlock. I am fine." John said.

"I kind of don't believe you."

"If it's too cold I can still go home. It's not like I am homeless. I just prefer… to be not at home at the moment." John tried to appease Sherlock.

Sherlock nodded.

"You know where I live if you want you can come. I am sure I can talk Mycroft into letting you sleep at our house."

"Thanks, Sherlock."

"I am sorry but I have to go know before Mycroft notices that I went out without asking."


	4. Chapter 4

Mycroft sighed when Sherlock knocked on his door. Every two hours Sherlock claimed to be bored and somehow the boy thought that Mycroft was responsible for his entertainment.

"You went for a walk, didn't you?"

"How did you know?" Sherlock asked.

"The edge of your trousers. They are wet from the snow." Mycroft was sitting on his bed reading. He could observe the smallest details without even looking up.

"I was bored!" Sherlock explained.

"I gave you a riddle two hours ago, you already solved it?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Yes, I solved it two hours ago about two minutes after you gave it to me."

"What about the math calculus I gave you on Monday?"

"Solved it."

Mycroft sighed. "Can't you just go to bed? I will give you something to do tomorrow, alright?"

Sherlock shook his head.

"I am not bored right now… at least not much. I wanted… to ask you something."

Mycroft looked up. Sherlock never wanted Mycroft to explain something to him. Sherlock didn't ask questions, he only answered them.

"If someone wanted sleep outside during this weather... would he survive?"

Mycroft raised his eyebrows. He surely didn't expect Sherlock to ask such a childish question.

"It depends on his clothes and how big he is." Mycroft answered.

"He is about as tall and thin as me. He is wearing three sweatshirts and two trousers, two pairs of socks but only thin leather shoes."

Mycroft shrugged his shoulders and looked down on his book again.

"I am pretty sure he would die of hypothermia in only a few hours. So whatever you are planning Sherlock, don't do it."

"I am not planning on doing anything it's just…"

"I am busy, brother dear. Go to sleep in your bed. Not outside."

"It's about a friend." Sherlock suddenly shouted. Mycroft looked on his brother again. The boy's behaviour was certainly strange today. Maybe the child was ill? He seemed to be paler than usual.

"You don't have any friends, Sherlock." Mycroft objected.

"I have! Just one… I think he is my friend… he helped me when I was ill."

Mycroft put his book aside. This was getting a bit interesting.

"Okay, your friend wants to camp today? You better tell him that he will die."

Sherlock shook his head.

"I tried to… He ran away from home. I think he is scared. He was beaten up by his father."

The young man narrowed his eyes. Sherlock was actually serious …and concerned?

"Where is he?" Mycroft wanted to know.

"At the boat-house on the playground."

A view minutes later Mycroft and Sherlock were on the playground. Sherlock pointed to the boat-house and Mycroft climbed into it much to Sherlock's surprise.

Mycroft saw the small boy, huddled in the corner of the room. He was pale and his lips were getting blue.

"Hey John." Mycroft greeted him. Sherlock had told him the boy's name beforehand. "I am Sherlock's brother Mycroft. How are you doing?"

Mycroft was still two meters away from the boy. He didn't want to scare him. He just got beat up by his parent, the person children were supposed to trust most. Mycroft had told Sherlock to wait outside. He didn't want to put pressure on the boy.

Big blue eyes were looking at him. "I'm … fi…ne." The boy answered. His teeth were chattering.

"Are you cold, John?"

The small boy nodded.

"How about we go home together? You can sleep in Sherlock's bed, he can have the couch. He is waiting outside for you. You can go anytime if you don't like it at our place."

The boy didn't answer. Although it was quiet dark Mycroft could see that boy's eyes were tearing up.

"Sherlock is worried about you. If you stay here you will fall asleep and never wake up. It's just too cold."

"I know." The kid answered much to Mycroft's surprise. "I know that people can die from hypothermia and I know its symptoms. I want to be a doctor one day."

"So you agree with me that you shouldn't stay here."

John seemed to think about it for a second.

"Kind of…"

"Do you want to go home with me and Sherlock."

John nodded.

"Then let's go."

Mycroft stood up and turned to the exit. But John didn't move. A few big tears rolled John's cheek down. First he Mycroft didn't understand but then he made his deductions.

"Can you walk, John?"

John shook his head.

"Are you too cold or are you hurt?"

"Both I think." John said.

"Is it alright for you, if I carry you?"

John nodded.

Mycroft walked to the boy and looked at him.

"Where are you hurt?"

"Left side."

Mycroft nodded and picked him up without hurting him any further.

He climbed out of the house with John in his arms. Mycroft could feel that the boy didn't have any strength left. John's head was resting on Mycroft's shoulder.

Sherlock looked concerned at John.

"I think he is asleep."

"He is pretty exhausted, Sherlock."

"Do you thing he will be alright."

"I think so."

When they arrived at home Mycroft slowly let John down on the coach. John was awake again though he seemed to be a bit confused.

"Sherlock, turn on the heating on maximum, bring another blanket and a first aid kit."

Normally Sherlock wouldn't listen to his brother but Sherlock wanted to help his friend.

Mycroft turned to John again. "Okay, John you shouldn't feel cold soon." He put a blanket around John's shoulders.

"Do you want to show me where you are hurt?" Mycroft asked after Sherlock brought the first aid kit.

John nodded. He pulled his shirts up and revealed a neat bandage. Mycroft took some scissors and cut it opened. Mycroft and Sherlock both held their breath as they saw the wound on John's stomach.

"How did that happen?" Mycroft wanted to know. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Isn't that obvious? His dad stabbed him with a broken beer bottle and John sewed it up himself. You can see that he did by himself because the part he couldn't reach well is done a bit messier."

"You still don't get the concept of tactfulness, do you Sherlock?"

Mycroft looked at stitches carefully.

"How did you know how to do that John? Those look pretty neat."

"I told you, I want to be a doctor one day."

Mycroft smiled. "I think we can leave it like this. There is no sign of an infection. But we have to check it every few hours. If you get a fever I will have to take you to a doctor immediately. I can give you some antibiotics. I am not a doctor, but I know a lot about medicine."

John nodded. "Thanks."

"Don't thank me, thank Sherlock."

Mycroft put some iodine on the wound, gave John some pills, antibiotics and pain killers, and carried him into Sherlock's room and put him on Sherlock's bed. The bed linen was fresh because Mycroft wanted to make sure that John's wounds didn't get infected.

Sherlock was sleeping on the couch without protesting and for the first time Mycroft thought that his little brother might not be a sociopath, which had been diagnosed by a psychologist a few years back.

Mycroft set up several alarms that night to check up on John. The little boy didn't wake up when Mycroft took his temperature and checked his pulse, but every time Sherlock woke up and asked Mycroft if John was alright.

The next morning John looked better. Sherlock brought him breakfast to his bed and Mycroft was surprised to find his brother actually communicating with another boy of his age. They were laughing and Mycroft was relieved in so many ways.

But it was clear to Mycroft that John couldn't stay with them and that John couldn't go home, too.

Mycroft was still studying but he had several ties to important persons and it wasn't hard for him to find a nice family who agreed to take John immediately. John would have to move to another town, but Mycroft made sure that John would get into a good private.

John had been at their place for three days when Mycroft decided that it was time for John to go. Sherlock was at school. Mycroft knew that it was mean to send John away while Sherlock wasn't there but he didn't want Sherlock to make a scene. It was hard enough for Mycroft anyway. He liked John too.

"John, we have to pick up your things from your place." Mycroft said. John was sitting on Sherlock's bed in Sherlock's clothes. Although the boy was two years older than Sherlock the clothes were too big for him. John nodded. Mycroft knew that John knew that he had to go.

They slowly walked to Mycroft's car. Mycroft was holding John's arm tightly. The young boy still had trouble walking.

John's home was only five minutes away.

Mycroft noticed that John got pale when they arrived.

"I am sorry, John, but we have to do that. I am with you, nothing will happen to you."

John smiled slightly. "I know."

They went up to the second floor.

John opened the door quietly and Mycroft guessed that John was used to walk into the apartment like ghost hoping that nobody would notice him.

"I am sorry for the mess." John said and blushed slightly.

When Mycroft entered the flat he was happy that John got out of there. It certainly was no environment for a kid. There were empty bottles and broken glass everywhere. It was filthy and the floor was sticky underneath his shoes. They entered a small room with a large, unmade bed. John took a few things out of cupboard and put it into a rucksack.

"Okay, I've got everything." He explained. Mycroft raised an eyebrow.

"I don't own a lot. " John explained further.

John and Mycroft were just about to leave, when a tall man entered the flat.

"John, there you are. Your sister thought you died or something." The man said. "She really gave me a hard time when she found that bloody piece of glass you left in the bathroom."

The man walked towards John. The boy started shaking. Mycroft stepped protectively between John and the man.

"My guess is you are Richard Watson?" Mycroft said.

"Yes, I am and who are you, brat?"

Mycroft smirked. "I am the man who will destroy your life. Well, at least what you haven't already destroyed yourself. I am taking John with me. You will never see him again." Mycroft looked at John, who seemed to be a bit confused. "- unless of course he wants to. But we will see each other again in court soon."

Mycroft turned to John and picked the little boy and his things up.

That day John left his father behind. John found a new family, a man and a woman who always had wanted to have children but never have been blessed with any. They loved John a lot and were proud of him when he finished school and university. They weren't happy when John left England to be a doctor in Afghanistan but they knew that it was what John wanted. They died in his first year in Afghanistan in a tragic car accident in London.

After John had left his father and her, his sister started to drink even more. She was an adult, Mycroft couldn't make her leave. The older John got the more she blamed him for everything.

The day John left was also the day Sherlock decided that Mycroft was his archenemy. He never forgave his brother that he had taken away Sherlock's only friend.


End file.
